


You're So 2007

by hostagesfic



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Kink Exploration, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:58:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something charming about the simple-mindedness of a seventeen year old boy with a stiffie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're So 2007

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladzfm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladzfm/gifts).



> As requested by lady Louisa, who's one of the few people in this world charming enough to get us to write 5 Seconds of whatever. If you don't know what snowballing is, either, don't look it up before you read this if you want the full effect. If it grosses you out in the end, you can pinch me.
> 
> (I haven't been into boys that look like Michael since 2007, hence the title. -p)

It’s a miscalculation on Harry’s part that gets him an eyeful of spunk from Michael, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less embarrassing for the kid. It’s kind of hilarious, actually, the way he turns even redder than the orgasmic flush Harry has grown to appreciate during the nights- and once, thirty minutes in a cupboard- they’ve spent together.

“You alright?” Harry laughs, sitting up between Mikey’s knees and dabbing at the inner corner of his eye with the pad of his middle finger.

Mikey flounders, pushing a hand into his hair and dropping his head back on the bed. “Fine, mate, just- sorry, shit.”

“Apology accepted,” Harry shrugs, and waits for Michael to look back up before he licks a smear of come off his chin. It’s... kind of nice, really, to have someone who’s absolutely, obviously gone for him. Michael’s the kinda kid, Harry thinks, he would’ve been friends with- and maybe rubbed one out over- in sixth form. “It happens,” he continues, as Michael tries his darndest not to hyperventilate. “Just aim for my mouth next time- I can take it all, promise.”

“You want me to come in your mouth?” Mikey snorts, wrinkling his nose. He blushes again when the easy smile on Harry’s face doesn’t waver.

Harry shrugs, moving up Michael’s body slowly, kissing his way up his ribs to his collarbones, jutting above the soft, pale skin of his chest. “Yeah, so I can snowball you,” he hums, and sucks at Mikey’s skin, which seems to effectively wipe his vocabulary in the blink of an eye. Harry kisses the hollow at the base of Michael’s neck, then moves up, easy and warm and leaving a faint trail of wetness, palming gently at Michael’s cock- he’s only seventeen, and Harry fondly recalls how quick his refractory period was then, particularly under soft, warm hands and the sweet scent someone else’s sweat mixed with their perfume or cologne. Harry’s never been too picky. 

The hair on Michael’s arms stands on end, goosebumping up to his shoulders. “Wait, what?” he squeaks, delayed, and Harry stops for a half second before nipping at Michael’s pulse.

“You don’t know?” he hums, right beneath Michael’s ear, and as expected, he squirms, his cock- more than half-hard, already- nudging up against Harry’s still hand. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m-” Michael gasps, but Harry’s fisted his cock already, giving him a few slow pulls as he sucks one last kiss right behind Mikey’s ear and moves back down, which effectively shuts him up.

There’s something charming about the simple-mindedness of a seventeen year old boy with a stiffie. Harry settles easily between Michael’s spread legs, stroking his dick, and Michael arches his back when Harry nips at the milky skin of his inner thighs. He kisses his way in between Michael’s legs and sucks him down easily, circling the base of him with his thumb and index finger and hollowing his cheeks.

Michael’s unwaveringly responsive- his fingers scrabble at the hotel sheets at his sides when Harry presses the tip of his tongue beneath his cockhead, and he whines when Harry twists his hand down to press the heel of it to Michael’s balls, gently, experimentally. Gasping, Michael bucks up when Harry slides down and _stays_ \- Harry’s prepared for it, though, with his forearm braced across the top of Michael’s thighs, pinning him down to the bed and digging his fingertips into his skin.

Harry can tell, when Michael’s stomach tenses, that he’s trying to stave off his orgasm- which rather than being annoying is just sweet, too, predictable. He doesn’t pull off, doesn’t relent or slow the bobbing of his head and the hollowing of his cheeks around Mikey, swallowing back spit and precome, and he almost smiles- almost, but he’s not really sure if Michael’s into teeth and isn’t looking to find out _now_ \- when he feels Michael’s balls draw up tight.

“Gonna-” Michael gasps, and Harry’s ahead of him, pulling almost all the way off until his lips are pursed beneath the crown and wanking him quickly, slicked with spit. Michael comes with a broken moan, spurting hotly in Harry’s mouth, and Harry doesn’t swallow, just strokes him through the pulsing heat and slurps up every last drop, holding it on his tongue.

Harry sets Michael’s softening cock against his hip and he smiles, then, tight-lipped, at the sight of Mikey’s rumpled hair and the sweat glistening over his chest. His own cock- hard and curving up against his stomach, bollocks heavy between his legs- twitches as he wedges both hands between Michael’s back and the bed and pulls him up carefully. Michael goes easily enough, sits up and gives Harry a goofy, curious smile. “Wha?”

Shrugging, Harry grabs both of Mikey’s cheeks and slots their mouths together. Michael opens up, and Harry gets a flash of triumphant guilt as he pushes his tongue, spunk-covered and warm, past Mikey’s lips.

To Michael’s credit, he doesn’t jerk away, although he twitches, gasps against Harry’s mouth. Harry’s persistent- Mikey’s never seemed averse to the salty taste of come, and he’s a quick learner, sucking his own come off Harry’s tongue. 

Harry pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, waggling his brows. “Snowballing,” he rasps, voice hoarse from sucking cock, and spits in his palm before wrapping a hand around his dick, watching Michael lick his swollen red lips repeatedly, wide-eyed and dazed.

“That- because it’s,” Michael giggles, bringing two fingers up to his mouth. It’s too _cute_ , his blissful, post-orgasmic reaction to the surprise, and Harry fucks into his fist with a smile, kneeling on the mattress.

The one downfall of getting two orgasms out of Mikey before Harry’s even touched himself is that the kid’s pretty useless, drops his head on Harry’s shoulder and kisses his chest sloppily, using too much tongue in his lazy enthusiasm. He makes gentle, whimpery noises of encouragement as Harry works himself quickly, and Harry brings his other hand down to palm at his balls, nudges a fingertip behind them for that final push over the edge.

He comes groaning, painting Michael’s belly with thick spurts as he strokes his cock quickly, giving the side of Mikey’s head a clumsy nuzzle and swallowing against the ghost flavor of him still clinging to his tongue. With the last of his strength, still riding the high of his orgasm, Harry flops onto his side, drags Michael down with him for another sweaty, overheated nudge of their foreheads and noses, craning his neck to peck a kiss to Michael’s upper lip.

“Checking that off my sexy bucket list, I suppose,” Michael says, accent lilting. “File under: things I didn’t know I wanted?”

“Things you didn’t even know the word for,” Harry snorts, poking at Michael’s side. “Loser.”


End file.
